Shred of Doubt
by cherrygurl1225
Summary: [Post The Cyprus Agency episode] She clings to that shred of doubt as tightly as she can. There's only one person who can help her through her breakdown. One person who can comfort her. Liz/Red


**The Blacklist: Shred of Doubt**

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**Author's Note: **My first fic for _The Blacklist _dedicated to my friend Sandra. Takes place post "The Cyprus Agency," but is an AU story. I love the Liz/Red relationship so much! I really hope he's NOT her father.

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"_You can't tell me that there's not one shred of doubt. One shred."_

Liz doesn't want to say the words that pass through her lips, though she knows they are true. She knows she isn't ready.

_They_ aren't ready.

Clinging to the shred of doubt, she now stands alone in the living room of her house. Only moments ago, Tom's face had morphed from one of confusion and disappointment to that of anger and rage.

He left, slamming the door behind him. Unbeknownst to Liz, he left to seek solace in the arms of another woman unable to sense the true underpinnings of his wife's words, the truth behind her dilemma.

Granted he didn't know what had happened earlier that day, but he found himself unable to accept his wife's words. Hadn't she been overjoyed about the prospect of adoption in the early hours of the morning?

Tears streaming down her face, she lets herself fall to the polished wood floor. Shadows of the night creep in around her, enveloping the space she occupies as she casts a glance toward baby stroller.

Brand new.

Unused.

Never to be used.

She should really stop herself from thinking that way. Someday, maybe she'll be ready. Just not today.

Not now.

Definitely not now.

Not after what she's seen. The horrors of the day's case causing her mind to race, her heart rate to quicken, a surge of anxiety coursing through tense muscles.

Her fingers shakily dial his number. A number she knows better than she should. A number that brings comfort and familiarity, a sense of security without judgment.

"Lizzie…" the voice, calm and collected, replies at the other end of the line. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Red, I…" Her voice cracks.

"Lizzie, where are you?" he asks, voice suddenly serious. "What's wrong?"

"I'm at home. I… I told Tom I wasn't ready to have a baby. He got angry and he left. Slammed the door… like it's my fault I…"

He interrupts her without hesitation. "I'm coming, Lizzie. I'll be right there."

"But…" she starts to object, all attempts to hide the desperation in her voice clearly failing.

He hangs up without waiting for her to answer.

She sits, waiting. Hunched over in the shadows of the room where her dark hair obscures her tear-stained face. Her mind drifts, wandering into a daydream, wondering how the events that had unfolded not long ago could have gone differently.

Suddenly, a loud knock on her front door startles her.

Forcing herself to get up, she moves listlessly toward the door and opens it.

Red stands in front of her, his face illuminating trace flickers of warmth and compassion, eyes soft, despite the rigid composure of his body.

"Hello, Lizzie," he says.

"You came," she replies, nearly gaping at him through her haze of tears.

"You called," he tells her.

Stepping back, she wordlessly invites him inside.

Once the door closes, Red gazes at Lizzie with sympathy.

"I see you've come to a decision."

Lizzie doesn't respond nor does she move any closer to minimize the gap between them.

"I'm so sorry, Lizzie," he whispers reverently and she knows, somehow, that he means it.

She knows better than to trust the words of a wanted criminal, but she trusts him. Believes him. Believes in the few words of solace he has to offer.

Suddenly, the situation magnifies and she silently realizes that this is so much more than the lingering shred of doubt she has about adopting a baby. It's about more than wanting to be a mother.

It's about the dissolution of the relationship between her and Tom.

It's about the growing, burgeoning relationship between her and Red, not quite plunging into the unknown abyss of intimacy, but holding onto something more familiar. More comforting.

The unwavering sense of protection and security he gives her.

He steps forward, taking Lizzie into his arms and letting her cry, uncontrollable sobs wracking through her body as she shakes and continual shivers course through her.

Softly, he murmurs faint words of reassurance into her hair.

After what seems like an interminable amount of time, close to what feels like eternity, Liz's body gives in and she collapses against him.

Immediately, Red scoops Liz into his arms and carries her to the couch in the living room. Once she's properly situated there, he drapes a blanket from the back of the couch over her body, her breathing slowing as she cries the last of her tears.

"I'm here, Lizzie," Red reminds her, his fingertips resting against her cheek as her eyes flutter closed.

Kneeling beside her, he waits until her breathing becomes slow, deep and even, a sign that she's peacefully slipped into sleep.

Gently, with tender, admiring affection, he places a kiss on her forehead.

Quietly, without leaving any lingering traces of his presence, he slips out the door and into the night, becoming obscured by the post-midnight darkness.

_Fin_


End file.
